


programmed to receive

by Vera (Vera_DragonMuse)



Series: said the night man [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fate, M/M, a little bit of madness makes love grow, the joy of the hunt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-21
Updated: 2013-02-21
Packaged: 2017-11-30 00:34:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/693316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vera_DragonMuse/pseuds/Vera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Heylel ran through the woods, pursued and lost in the joy of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	programmed to receive

The leaves scattered in the wind. Heylel crouched by a sheltering maple and watched the fall of orange and red. He listened intently to the forest. Somewhere amid the ancient silence, a predator stirred and shook the birds from their trees. Heylel listened. 

Dry leaves crackled, a faint warning to the north. Instantly Heylel was on his feet, running due south. He wasn’t heedless in his flight, avoiding the same mistake his pursuer had made. He moved easily around leaf piles and rotting wood with fluid agility. He put on speed as he neared a creek, veering along its path rather than trying to cross it. If he fell in, precious time would be lost. 

The sheer joy of the moment took him over and he grinned as he pushed himself down the shore. He was wholly present in his body, feeling each touch of his feet to the ground, the pull of muscles in his legs and the heave of breath in his chest. The world was narrowed to him and to his hunter. 

Getting caught was inevitable, something he was no longer inclined to fight. He had learned to like the game because of that surety. If he could run and not be caught up, it would undermine everything. It wouldn’t be a game anymore. He didn’t fantasize about leaving anymore. The thought, left to its own devices and spinning out question after question that all boiled down to ‘what would I do?’, disturbed him. 

Above him a hawk screamed, darting in for a mouse and Heylel put on speed. When the creek thinned, decreasing the chance of slipping, he jumped it. Mud splashed up the back of his legs as he started to weave between trees. A whistle cut through the air, not wind in the leaves, but a person with a tune. Heylel froze. Pinpointed the song. Knocking on Heaven’s Door. 

He snorted, changed gears and dropped into a walk. He needed to listen more than he needed the distance. The whistling stopped, but not before Heylel got an idea of where it had been coming from. Of course, that meant it was intentional, a misdirection. 

He could double back, but that would have been taken into account. Frowning, he looked up. The sun had moved, marking three hours since they’d begun. It was his best time yet. Heylel studied the terrain and made an impulsive decision, leaping up into the nearest tree. He climbed as quietly as he could. Pressed to the trunk, he watched and waited. 

His patience was rewarded only a few minutes later. Gabriel moved into his line of sight. He looked good in the autumn sunlight, if a little ridiculous in the hunter’s camouflage he insisted on. Though in theory the game meant no use of superpowers, Gabriel’s body wasn’t exactly standard factory brand. Heylel couldn’t tell from the distance, but he knew Gabriel would be scenting the air like a hound, listening with all the grave intent an archangel could bring to bear. 

Cautious and slow, Heylel picked an acorn from the branch above him. Then he tossed it as hard as it could. Seconds later it clattered into the underbrush, turning Gabriel’s head. Heylel waited with bated breath. 

Gabriel turned around and looked straight up into the tree. He held up his left hand in the shape of a gun and mimed a single shot. 

“How’d you know?” Heylel complained. 

“That would be telling.” Gabriel snapped his fingers and Heylel stood on the ground before him. “You did lose me for a minute or two though. Impressive.” 

“When?” Heylel sank to his knees, hands tucked to the small of his back. The ground was a little damp, wicking through the thin fabric of his pants, but it didn’t bother him. 

“Maybe I’ll tell you later.” Gabriel’s thumb traced over Heylel’s bottom lip. “Maybe not. I like winning.” 

“You always win.” Heylel sighed, not in annoyance, but satisfaction. 

“What would you ask me for if you did win?” 

Heylel nipped at the pad of Gabriel’s thumb, buying time to think. He didn’t want for anything. What he needed, Gabriel provided. That they wagered was more of a sweetening of the pot than anything else. A favor was what they called the bet, but in practice it was business of usual: Gabriel demanded and Heylel provided. 

“Answer me.” Gabriel tipped Heylel’s head back. 

“I don’t have an answer.” 

“There’s nothing you want from me?” Gabriel narrowed his eyes. “Not one thing?” 

“I have everything I want.” He hesitated. “Is that wrong?” 

“No.” Gabriel sank into a crouch, framed Heylel’s face with his hands. “That’s pretty awesome actually.” 

“I am awesome.” Heylel smiled, back on firm ground. 

“And humble.” 

“Pot, kettle.” 

“I am an angel of the lord.” Gabriel tapped Heylel on the nose. “Humble wasn’t built in.” 

“And you haven’t built it into me.” Heylel pointed out. 

“I didn’t make you.” Gabriel blinked. Surprised? Really? 

“I’m smart, you know.” Heylel tilted his head, a movement he’d picked up from Gabriel and made his own. “Very, actually. I lived for a year on my own, faking my way through being him and I never once felt the faintest stirring. Yet eight months with you and I’m changing. Becoming...someone. You’ve shaped me. Re-created me.” 

“You shaped yourself. Perhaps you only needed someone to treat you as you were.” 

“Maybe. But I doubt anyone, but you could have pulled it off.” Heylel smirked. “What with you being so awesome and all.” 

“Do you believe in fate?” Gabriel tilted his head, birdlike. He always did that when he talked of higher powers. It was as if the human mask he wore could not withstand contemplation of the divine. 

“I don’t believe in anything. Surety is the downfall of a hunter.” 

“What do you think of the concept then?” 

“I think that if anyone had laid out a plan for all beings on this foul stinking earth that it would make a lot more sense than it does.” Heylel found a surprisingly well of bitterness rising in him. “I wouldn’t be staggering around with the memories of another man, the remnants of his life clinging to me like needy children. I wouldn’t have been born out of some foolish mistake by a jumped up angel and delivered to a brother that should have accepted what I was instead of trying to turn back the clock by sticking a ragged remain of a soul back into me. If fate exists than it has a fuckload to answer for.” 

Gabriel stared. “I think that’s the most I’ve ever heard you say about anything.” 

“I guess I’ve been thinking about it.” He muttered, dropping his gaze to the leaves. 

“Guess so. What if I were to tell you that I think you and I were meant to meet?” 

“I’d say you’ve got a surprising new optimistic outlook on life.” 

“Hilarious.” Gabriel smacked him lightly on the cheek. “Just look at the odds. What were the chances that you would run straight into my shitty bar at edge of nowhere. Think of how slim the margin it would have been for you to turn on another exit, into another life. A life that would end one way or another at the hands of Dean Winchester within days.”

“I could’ve made it a week.” 

“Not the point. Look at me.” Gabriel snapped. Heylel looked up, met the wild look in Gabriel’s eyes. “You might not understand this or care, but I have been a jagged piece in the angel jigsaw puzzle for a long time. I skipped out on the Grand Plan, made a run for the border. But Father knows all, sees all. He’s my Dean, I guess you could say. What if this was what he intended all along?” 

“You think God himself intended me to find you?” Heylel snorted. “Why? What could he possibly get out of you instilling some emotional reactions into a human sock puppet?” 

“You make me happy. I love you.” Gabriel reminded him as if it were a fact that Heylel was ever capable of forgetting. As if he didn’t repeat it to himself like a spell every time they were apart from each other. Every time he was afraid Gabriel wouldn’t come back for him. “And you....well. Sam Winchester was a miserable fuck, who cast himself into the Abyss to save the world. A martyr. Even if they returned his soul to you...whoever that new person was, it wouldn’t be Sam Winchester. He’d be whatever Lucifer left him with and that ain’t gonna be much. 

“The question is this,” Gabriel’s thumb swept over Heylel’s lip again, “how do you reward a man that no longer exists?” 

“Wait.” Heylel sucked in a sharp breath. “Are you implying that my life with you is...what? Sam’s eternal reward?” 

“Why not?” 

Heylel stared at Gabriel. Though he hadn’t been told he could, he uncrossed his wrists. He reached out and swept off the ridiculous hunting hat. When Gabriel made no move to stop him, Heylel ran his hand through Gabriel’s hair and cupped his face as Gabriel so often did to him. Heylel’s hands were larger, swallowing chin and cheeks. He leaned in and kissed the thin lips that been his constant companion since that night in the bar. 

“If you can believe it that,” Heylel said with a soft sigh, “I can too.” 

“You don’t...it’s just a theory.” 

“It’s a good theory.” Heylel touched the end of his nose to Gabriel’s. “But I’m still not going by Sam.” 

“No. You’re my Heylel.” Gabriel’s smile burst out as bright as the sun and twice as warming. “And I should get you home before someone poaches you.” 

“Yeah,” Heylel closed his eyes, knowing that when he opened them they would be in their apartment, probably on the bed. “Let’s go home.”


End file.
